


Coalescence

by Octobig



Series: First Contact [4]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: (only slightly), Alien Biology, Angst, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Fellatio, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Orgasm Control, Shower Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, spoilers for the main quest up until Hunting the Archon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:19:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octobig/pseuds/Octobig
Summary: Sara feels weightless against him, drawn in by the magnetism of his blue eyes; mesmerizing nebulae against the starry scenery of dark space. Orbiting around him like a shooting star, losing parts of herself in the process of drawing closer to him, yet hurling closer to his center nonetheless – he’s her home, her grounding force in the uprooted landscape of her mind, the gravity that will always pull her back to where she belongs.[Or alternatively: Sara breaks down, SAM and Jaal pick up the pieces, and the showers are thoroughly used the day after.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for @xenosaurus. Thank you for all the late night discussions on angaran biology.

Today, staring out into the vastness of space gives Sara Ryder no comfort; knuckles white from their tight grip on the railing, her eyes don’t even properly register the impressive sight outside. The Tempest is now far away from the Tafeno system, hanging over a beautiful gaseous cloud in the Sabeng system instead, but the dramatic view does nothing to ease the hollowness inside.

SAM is there, as always, monitoring her closely – of course, Sara already knew that they were intertwined almost beyond recognition, and beyond what even other people thought that a symbiotic relationship between an AI and human would mean. But _this_ …

She’d died, and SAM had done it.

It had happened once before, almost, at the start of her adventure; but back then she’d only been focused on her father. Had he made it, was he safe, and oh god Scott was also already in a coma – her mind afloat while her thoughts had desperately scrambled for some sort of purchase of reality. She remembers only fear and anxiety from that time, fingers convulsing desperately in mid-air, neural overload distorting everything in its path. And she’d already been drifting away because of a lack of oxygen anyway; a way to a natural death, so to speak.

This had been entirely different. This had been adrenaline-fueled and _angry_ , staring the potential destroyer of an entire galaxy in the face and trying to spit in it while staying strong for her team – heck, for every single member of the Initiative who had made the trip to Andromeda. The Archon whose arrogance and genetic experiments had driven so many to ruin in his quest for exaltation – never before had Sara truly wanted to murder someone to such an extent, her body buzzing with rage.

She’d barely even registered the pain shooting through her veins when the Archon had slammed that extractor into her back. It was unclear what exactly he’d stolen – her genetic code, some of her cells? But that didn’t seem to matter, either.

All her anger had suddenly been cut short, as if someone sliced through her lifeline with a simple finger-snap; gone, lost, the period at the end of a sentence. No tension, just a fall. It had been nothing like the first time.

She hadn’t even sort of _noticed_ ; just a blur of memory, a void, and then a slam-into-a-brick-wall kind of ending. No light, no stars, not even a slow descent. Nothing. From being alive, filled with so many emotions of destruction and pain and pure fighting instinct, and then it had been gone in a mere instant.

And the way her lungs had burned when she’d taken her first gasp of breath back into the world, with her fingers clutching at her chest; too heavy, too deep, too _alive_. It’s as if that death ate away some sort of hidden part of her soul – the place where she keeps her optimism, her smiles, her drive to continue. Her _life_.

She flicks her eyes briefly to the side; to her desk, where SAM’s module can be found.

Then, she closes her eyes, hand rubbing over her face. Gods, all the terrible sights they’ve come across in these past few missions against the main command of the kett – tortured salarians and humans, mangled beyond recognition; hundreds and hundreds of tanks filled with bodies dipped in that vile yellow liquid; angara and krogan in the horrendous and heartbreaking process of exaltation… Life, in all its many beautiful shapes and forms, perverted and used by an alien race who felt they had a _right_ to it.

Sara can’t imagine that with all their knowledge, with all their evolutionary strengths taken like scraps from other races and civilizations, that the kett have not yet realized that the beauty of life is to let its run its course – naturally, freely, in the realm of its own possibilities and choices. Like a stream bursting worth from a well seeking its way through the world, struggling against the adversity of the landscape surrounding it. Chaotic, yes; not always effective, _yes_ ; but ultimately its _own_.

And to take that choice away, to brutalize it and force it into a will-less, soulless compartment of life _they_ thought was best – Sara grits her teeth, unshed tears in her eyes, unable to finish the thought.

The Archon had stared her into the face, had looked deep into her eyes, and had deemed her irrelevant and unworthy, just like the entirety of the human race. Only useful for the technology they had built – that Alec Ryder had built – the machine residing inside Sara’s head. The AI interacting with the Remnant tech that the Archon wanted to get his filthy claws on.

Anything for SAM, who had killed her.

She clenches her hands into fists.

“Sara,” SAM says, the volume of his audio-output quite low, “I would advise against punching the railing a second time.”

“You don’t know _shit_ ,” she hisses, trying not to cry.

The module emits a faint, gentle blue light. “I know you have experienced many traumatizing events in quick succession that are taking their toll on you,” SAM says. “Emotionally, physically, and even from an ethical standpoint. Everything you stand for is being challenged.”

She angrily wipes a tear away. “Wow, you want credit for figuring that out?”

“You are having a breakdown,” SAM continues, “and I am partly to blame. For this, I apologize. But we both also know that there was no other way out of that situation. If there was, we would have taken it.”

Sara sighs, closing her eyes and sinking down on her knees. “We?” she asks, voice breaking. “Is there still a ‘we’, SAM? Or is there a you and me, where you can just shut me down whenever you’d like to?”

“Sara,” SAM says, gentler, “you already knew I had full access to your physiology. You are also aware of the fact that you would likely perish if the implant – if I – were to be removed from your head.”

She starts weeping in earnest, tears sliding down her face while she hiccups, trying to contain the outbursts of sobs somehow. “I _died_ , SAM! I died and you stayed behind. And there was _nothing_. I would’ve thought…” Another sob makes her voice break and pitch, and she presses the heel of her hand to one eye, rubbing her tears away even though they keep spilling.

“I would’ve thought there was _something_ , SAM, even if it was the briefest of glimpses,” she says, the lump in her throat almost unbearable. “If I’d pass away amongst the stars here in this fucking mess of a situation, that I could at least have a _moment_ … Of quiet, of warmth, of _beauty_.”

Silence befalls them, except for Sara’s crying, and it isn’t very often that SAM is at a complete loss for words.

“You were not alone when you died, Sara,” he finally says, sounding very solemn. “I was there, as were your friends. I felt your presence every step of the way.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough,” Sara half-sobs, wobbling back until she’s sitting on the floor, her back leaning against a chair near the desk. “I don’t know if that’s enough. I feel like I’m in way over my head. I don’t understand _any_ of it, not the kett, not how you and I work, not if this Meridian is the solution to all of our problems…”

She draws up her knees, leaning her head on them, trying to regain some control over her breathing. “I wish dad was here,” she says, very quietly, “and Scott. I even find myself wishing for mom even though she’s been gone for so long.”

“I understand your wishes,” says SAM, “even though they cannot come true. There is much I still could have learned from Alec, and from Ellen, too.”

She rubs at her wet cheeks, the worst of the sobs and the hiccups slowly dying down. “I know that you’ve practically _lived_ in dad’s head like you live in mine, but you’re not – you’re not as _tangible_ as they are. Were.”

“I _am_ working on becoming a real person, Sara,” he says dryly.

She shakes her head, still too shaken up to smile at his joke. “I’m sorry. It’s just so much, and I can’t even properly comprehend _half_ of it. And everybody’s depending on me to find all of humanity a new home.”

“On us,” SAM corrects, “and you do not have to fully understand all the aspects of this situation. We can find a solution nonetheless, and it does not have to be an elegant one.” A pause, and then he adds, more insistent: “But we will find it _together_ , Sara. Please do not stop believing in that reality.”

She sighs, long and deep; lets the clear air in her quarters on the Tempest fill her lungs from the bottom to the top, stomach and chest both expanding as far she can. She then leans back against the chair again, looking up.

“I never stopped believing in it,” she says eventually, “just as I know for sure that you’d wake me up every time you’d kill me. For whatever reasons. I trust you. But that still doesn’t change just how _bad_ it feels.”

SAM’s module flickers again. “I know. And that is why I apologized.”

Sara rubs at her neck, the urgency of her tears quietly dissipating. “I don’t know how Jaal does it,” she murmurs. “He saw his people get exalted, realized he’d been fighting them for _years_ , discovered that his entire species is designed by another alien race… And he weeps, he cries, but he also walks up to it and embraces it. Somehow.”

“He makes it a part of his own experience in ways that go beyond my understanding of the emotions of living beings,” SAM comments. “Especially considering Alec’s limited experience in properly coping with such matters.”

That _does_ make the corner of her mouth tilt up in a tiny hint of a smile. “Are you calling my dad emotionally constipated?”

“Yes,” SAM answers instantly.

She snorts. “He was.”

And then it is quiet again, save for the soft ambient hum and buzz of the Tempest floating out in space. Sara still feels like a wreck, all shaken up from the inside and twisted by what she’s seen in the past 24 hours, but at least it’s not a hurting, ugly thing between her and SAM anymore.

Everything is not yet okay, and it probably won’t be for at least a few days more – but they’ve spoken about it, and said things that were still unsaid. And that can give her some peace of mind, for now.

“I need a shower,” she grunts.

“I would advise a bit of relaxation,” SAM says in agreement.

Sara feels almost too heavy to get up; as if the load of all that’s happened is pulling her down, shifting her center of gravity off tremendously. She’s sporting the worst headache in her life, too, and that’s not helping matters. But it seems too trivial, too childish to just flop down on the floor and never get up again.

“If you are ready,” SAM says suddenly, “there are a lot of new e-mail correspondences in your inbox. Many of them from your friends, assuring you of the convictions of their belief in you.” A pause. “That might aid your current state of mind.”

Sara closes her eyes, head tipping back. “ _Our_ friends,” she says, voice raw. “We’re a package deal now, you and I. We always were, but… the implications of it have never really hit home, until now. And I want to _try_.” She pauses, too, trying to make sense of her wayward thoughts.

“I want to try to be a better friend to you,” she eventually settles upon, slowly getting up.

“Thank you, Sara,” SAM says. “If possible, I would never wish to experience your death – nor be the cause of it – ever again.”

And that’s the end of it – those two promises hanging between them. Without dread, but rather with hope.

Sara walks up to the e-mail terminal at her desk, browsing through the messages – everybody trying their damn hardest to make sure she knows she’s not alone. To offer her, in their own ways, some comfort. Her reflection in the terminal’s screen looks terrible, Sara thinks: circles under her eyes of a deep, almost harsh purple, lips thin and colorless, and her cheeks blotchy from crying.

But still, their words of kindness and comfort make her smile, and that makes her face look slightly less horrid in turn.

There’s a chiming noise at the door – someone putting in a request to come in. She’s had her quarters closed all day, not wanting to face the reality of everything just yet. Sara feels a brief rush of anxiety spark her veins; she’s still not really looking for company, especially not now that she’s looking like _this_.

It’s one thing to be the Pathfinder _and_ be close to everyone on her crew, but it’s another thing entirely to let the people who depend on her see her broken down so utterly and completely.

“It is Jaal,” SAM provides. “The lifeform on the other side of the door registers as 100% angaran.”

That almost makes her laugh. SAM’s saying it like it’s some kind of advertisement – _Please order your significant other in the Heleus cluster today. 100% organic, bioelectric angaran beefcake, ready for deployment._

“Would be something if you could use your AVP for that,” she mutters, unlocking the double doors; they slide open, revealing Jaal.

He looks a little hesitant, hands clasped together in front of him, large eyes blinking. He’s not wearing his visor, and not his rofjinn, either – he seems almost incomplete without it. She motions for him to step in and so he does, quick on his feet, and she locks the doors again after.

“Sara,” he says quietly, reaching for her hands, “Sara, are you doing… alright?”

She huffs, half-mocking her own miserable state while pointing up at her face. “What do you think, big guy?”

Jaal’s expression grows pained, and immediately brings up his hands to thumb over her cheekbones. “You have been weeping,” he says, “on your own. Oh, my darling…”

Somehow, nothing is worse than seeing _him_ sad, so she’s already bringing her palms up to downplay the situation and tell him that she’s okay now, that she has him and SAM and everybody else on board. No need to worry, just the things that come with the job, etcetera, etcetera.

“I have – ” she starts, and that sentence immediately ends with her breath getting knocked out of her with a whoosh.

Jaal’s arms wrap around her and he crushes her to his chest, lifting her up off the floor; feet dangling, she blinks at the sudden display of affection in slight confusion. He merely holds her tighter, face pressed alongside hers, arms around her like vices, and apparently lifting her up like this is no effort to him at all.

“Jaal?” she asks, her own voice sounding very small.

“You may always share your burdens with me,” he whispers into her ear, gently nuzzling the side of her face. “You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide it, if sharing helps.” He leans back, offering her a small smile. “I will always be there for you, Sara, if you need me.”

And that almost brings about another volley of tears – held up in his arms like this, her face an absolute mess and her heart and mind tired, so _tired_ , and yet all this amazing man can do is offer her _more_ love. Jaal, who has lost family and friends and parts of his entire _species_ to the kett, who’s seen her _perish_ in front of him, is now holding her tight and telling her that it’s alright to break down. That he’ll be there to catch her if she falls.

“I love you,” she says, voice wavering, unable to curb the sudden rush of tenderness and warmth. “Gods, Jaal, I love you so much. Thank you.” She brings her hands up, lifting his face towards hers, and kisses his mouth.

He smiles, kissing back.

“I’m doing okay,” she murmurs, trying to keep her voice level. She wraps her arms around his neck, canting their foreheads together. “I’m already working through it. It’s just… it’s hard.”

“Of course,” he says, arms growing tighter around her waist. Her feet are still not touching the floor.

She glides one finger past the scar on his cheek. “Are you,” she starts, “are you also – I mean – you saw me _die_ , and I don’t… It’s been giving me so much trouble, but I don’t know if – if you’re okay. With what happened.”

Jaal draws back, catching her gaze, his expression earnest and reflective. “Sara,” he says strongly, “I trust you. I trust SAM. Though now I know what my beloved’s face looks like without its soul…”

He sighs, frowning, cupping her face in one hand. “It was… undeniably difficult. It’s a sight I never wish to see again. But… I would do both you and SAM a disservice if I would not believe in you as much as you believe in each other.” He offers her another gentle smile, nodding. “If anything, contact with your species – with your Initiative – has sparked within me how important it is to _trust_.”

Sara shakes her head, leaning into his touch. “How are you even real,” she says.

A hint of smugness moves over his face; this is an idiom he’s more than familiar with, thanks to Liam using it quite often. “I try,” he answers, shrugging.

It’s then that Sara realizes that despite his fingers trailing gently over her hair and the side of her face, her feet are _still_ dangling in the air. She stares down and then back up to him. “Are you holding me up with _one_ arm?”

Jaal stares down at her waist and tightens his arm, hoisting her a little higher against him. “Yes? Is this so strange?”

“No, not _at all_ ,” she says, trying a small smile and not trying to sound too sarcastic. “Nothing wrong at all. Still wondering what I did to deserve you.”

He looks offended. “Darling, you doubt your own worth? Preposterous!” he exclaims, wrapping both arms back around her waist again and starting to walk towards the bed. “You are a warrior, a scientist, an explorer, an absolute delight – your intelligence, your _wit_ , your humor…”

Sara can’t help but let a few snorts of laughter escape during his little speech, and he lowers her to the mattress with flair, his endless praise never-stopping.

“… all these aspects a _shining_ beacon of the alien goddess that has come alive within you – ”

“Jaal, _please_ ,” she laughs, the first joyful burst in the last couple of days, “stop it! I know, I know.”

He seems very pleased with himself, leaning down to help remove her shoes. “I would sing songs to praise you into the stars for _centuries_ to come, sweetheart,” he teases, a self-satisfied smile on his face while she whips her over-shirt off and away.

The worst (or best?) part of it, is that Sara knows that despite his playfulness, he means it.

“Anything else?” he then asks, gesturing towards her other clothes. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“Ugh,” she says, “ _everything_ is itchy.” She lets herself fall back on the mattress, shimmying out of her pants, and Jaal helps pulling them off, discarding them somewhere at the foot of the bed.

When she throws her bra at him, he briefly gives it a stare – the tinkerer inside of him probably still figuring out the whys and hows of the contraption – but eventually also dumps it in the same pile. That leaves Sara in the middle of the bed in her panties and tank top, and Jaal draws back the covers and drapes them over her legs. He arranges a few pillows comfortably around her, too, even walking back to the chairs to grab some more, and then looks at her with a pleased smile in the middle of the nest he’s built in her bed.

“There,” he says, “a better place to lounge for my goddess. Is there still room for your lover?”

She smiles, patting the space next to her. “Always, darling.”

Jaal grins back and crawls in; slips around her so he can pull her between his spread legs, her back comfortably against his chest. He’s everywhere around her like this – long legs stretched out alongside hers with her toes pressing into his calves, and big arms are resting on his thighs and draped over her shoulders. He takes ahold of the blankets again, pulling them up around them and covering her up almost all the way to her neck.

She hums happily, closing her eyes and leaning back against his bulk. One of his arms curls around her front, holding her lightly to him, and the other finds her hand under the covers. He twines his fingers gently with hers, and she squeezes back in response.

It’s like all the hurt and tired gets sucked straight out of her, making place for fluffy, balmy fuzz.

“Now,” Jaal says calmly, “do you still want to talk about it?”

Sara shakes her head against him, drawing her legs up closer to her body. He follows, thighs staying in contact with hers the entire time. He’s rested his chin on top of her head, occasionally twisting his neck to press a kiss to her hair.

“No,” she says softly. “I’ve focused too much on the shitty stuff, lately. I want to talk about something… _nice_.”

He huffs, warm breath ghosting over her head – he purposefully blows air against her scalp once he notices it makes her hair move. They sit together like that for a while, almost absented-mindedly petting each other. Sara’s really enjoying the closeness of it all.

“My true mother wishes to have a picture of us together to show to family and relatives who ask about… our relationship,” Jaal then says, having found a topic that qualifies as ‘nice’.

Despite the sweetness of the gesture, it still makes Sara cringe, hiding her face in Jaal’s ridiculously wide upper arm. “I’m guessing the last one she saw of me wasn’t, ah, appropriate enough?”

He shrugs, voice teasing. “I was not in it, Sara.”

“The only way you could’ve been _in_ it was if you were on me,” Sara says, forehead still pressed to his arm. “I still can’t believe you showed that picture to your mom. _Gods_.”

He nuzzles against her ear. “She was already looking at my omni-tool over my shoulder, so I had little choice, darling. Also, you do look ravishing in it, and your private parts are elegantly obscured.”

He pauses thoughtfully as if he’s considering his final verdict. “It is a beautiful and tasteful picture.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “As long as you don’t show it to anyone else. That picture of you flexing in the snow was also pretty nice.” She half-turns, looking up at him. “We could combine them. Turn them into an artsy diptych and then your mom can be all like – ‘Look, my beautiful son and daughter! Both half-naked!’”

Jaal grins, pressing a kiss to her nose. “She would be proud no matter what we gave her. After all, I _am_ her favorite son.”

“But still,” Sara says, still smiling, “I think it’d be best if we took a proper one together, huh?”

He nods and she turns to her original position again within his arms, settling back against his chest. They sit together like that for a little while, cuddling, Sara immersing herself in his warm, gentle presence.

“Hey,” she says then, “I know that your family is cool with us, and I know that you think I’m gorgeous. But, uh, how do other angarans view us? Humans, I mean?”

Jaal rests his chin atop her head again, both arms coming up to hug around her shoulders. “Your legs are in general considered to be an oddity,” he remarks, “so straight as they are, bending only at the knee. And your feet! Elongated, with just so many toes.”

Sara wiggles them against Jaal’s for good measure, grinning. “Anything else?”

“You seem a little delicate,” he continues. “No large ribs or elaborate sternum to protect your chest; rather, some of you even have strange squishy bumps on their torsos,” he laughs, fingers tickling at her sides.

She wriggles in his grasp, pushing his hands away. “Hey, stop it!”

“And,” he says, mouth moving over her hair, “the strands on top of your head are immeasurably fascinating to almost all of us. We do have species on some of our worlds that have fur, but – yours comes in so many shapes, forms, and colors, and seems built rather for fashion than function.”

Sara smiles, leaning back. “Not to mention that we’re actually covered in hair, but some of it is so fine you don’t really see it.”

Jaal nods. “Exactly! Fascinating, dearest, and I do mean that in the best of ways. Some of our researchers have asked teams of yours for strands of hair to analyze.”

She slips one arm out from under the covers, holding it out in front of her; she nudges Jaal until he does the same, his large hand fitting easily over her smaller one.

“See?” he says, cheek against hers. “You are more delicate, compared to us. But you have more variety physically between individuals, as well.”

Sara draws their hands back to her chest, pressing a kiss against the back of his hand before slipping back under the warmth of the covers again. “And you guys are huge, muscle-y mountains. But you don’t hear me complaining.”

Jaal laughs against her hair. “Is that all humans think of us angara?”

She furrows her brow in thought. “Well, the angara have a lot of characteristics that we appreciate. I mean, how expressive and emotive you guys are, that’s pretty relatable to us as humans. It also makes diplomatic relations easier.” A smile makes its way to her lips. “And the _colors_. Everybody loves them. The eyes, the skin, all the different shades and tints and patterns …”

“But our eyes only come in one color,” he comments. “Yours come in various shades.”

She tips her head back, kissing his chin. “So? Still the brightest blue that I’ve ever seen. And all the little flecks and _stars_ in them, Jaal, that’s gorgeous.”

That makes him laugh, one arm squeezing around her waist. “We are not that strange to you, then?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sara says, running her fingers over his left thigh. “Why do you ask?”

“I…” he starts, sentence briefly hanging on a sigh. “This might be difficult, you and I. If I _know_ where it might be difficult, then I can prepare for it, darling.”

Sara huffs, crossing her arms. “If people want to be nasty bigots about something, they’ll find a reason, no matter what. Just be you. Angara aren’t _that_ intimidating to humans.” She grins, prods his arm. “Just rather _large_.”

He watches her eyes flick down to between their bodies, his expression inquisitive. “Is this another one of your idioms, Sara?”

That surprises her a little, until she realizes that this might only be a thing that humans do. “Uh,” she stammers, trying to figure out a way to explain it, “I was referring to your dick. That it’s big. That’s, uh, kind of a thing sometimes for… humans with dicks. They compare sizes and boast about it.”

Unexpectedly, Jaal starts laughing loudly, almost bellowing it out. “Ha! You’re not joking. Is this considered an achievement?”

Sara makes a constipated-looking expression. “… No? I mean, it’s genetics? But lots of people think it _is_ a cool thing, and they insist that a big dick is the only way to please someone with a vagina.” She sighs, hands in the air. “It’s silly, I _know_.”

“I do not think I have the biggest one in my family,” Jaal comments almost pensively.

She rolls her eyes and closes them after, sliding further back down against his chest. “Gods, this is not happening. I don’t want to know. Just for the record, I don’t give a shit anyway. I fell in love with _you_ , not with your genitals.”

“No,” Jaal smiles, “I think I understand what you mean. For us, it is more about the control and use of bioelectricity that is a main point of evaluation as a lover. People boast about it.”

She smiles, looking back up to him again. “And? _Are_ you the best bioelectric user in your family?”

Jaal’s chest puffs up in proudness. “Naturally, darling one,” he grins. “Oral sex is also considered somewhat of an art.”

Now it’s Sara’s turn to chuckle. “Wow, I never would’ve guessed!”

He presses another kiss to her nape. “You were _very_ pleased with it, as I recall.”

She stretches her legs under the blanket, sighing happily. “Yeah,” she says, drawing the word out. “It was pretty fucking fantastic. Hey, am I similar to angaran ladies in that regard? Or, you know, people with similar bits?”

Jaal looks thoughtful, drawing circles over her upper legs with his fingers. “In many ways, yes,” he finally decides, “which made it easier for me to give you pleasure. But angara, they are more… _firm_ , I believe.”

Sara understands what he means right away. “Yeah,” she says, “you also feel more solid and harder than the average human.”

“Angara have something similar to a clitoris,” he continues, “but it’s situated inside rather than on the outside. Less lubricant, too. It is more of a…”

She tips her head up, nosing at his throat. “Insert tab A into slot B?”

His mouth curves into a gentle smile. “Yes. Less _squishy_ and moist, at least. Not so delicate.”

“Hey,” she says, placing a hand over her heart in mock-insult, “you can do me harder if you want. I won’t break. Vaginas can pretty much accommodate _anything_ as long as they’re wet enough.”

Jaal smile grows into a more mischievous one. “You know, darling one,” he says, sounding endlessly amused, “I _have_ had cousins come up to me with concerns whether our coupling would not be… too much for you. They advised me to exercise caution with such a fragile alien.”

Sara doesn’t know whether to feel insulted at being called a fragile alien, to be concerned about Jaal’s cousins meddling with their sex life, or to be _grateful_ for their meddling. Or all three. So she just huffs back at Jaal, palm coming up to cover her face.

“I can’t _believe_ it,” she mutters. “I mean, nice of them and all, but _really_? Also, did you just manage to boast about having a big dick and wanting to go hard at it in the same sentence?”

Jaal makes a tut-tutting noise, teasing. “Remember, Sara, we knew next to nothing about humans back then. No biological diagrams, no information on SAM, nothing on your biotics – you cannot blame them for not immediately seeing your _strength_.”

If he had actual eyebrows, she is sure he would wiggle them. Now, he just looks complacent.

“Oh my god,” she snickers, face buried in his arm. “My super powerful vagina. Is it the squeezing thing?”

He chases her with more kisses. “Maybe,” he laughs. “It is _very_ stimulating, and angara cannot do it.” He leans in further, nose against hers. “I love it like I love you, sweetheart.”

She smiles and kisses him back. “And I’m crazy about you too, darling.” Then, she raises an eyebrow at him. “So, do the cousins know about my private bits, now?”

He chuckles. “None of the details. But I think they could make out by my smile that our coupling was _more_ than smooth, when they inquired about it.”

She prods his lower arm with her finger. “Charmer.”

“And,” Jaal continues, voice quieter in confession, “I may or may not have been showing off some fight recordings from our missions at some of my family gatherings.”

That makes her laugh again, her shoulders shaking against his chest. “No way.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and then: “Ah. Idiom.”

Sara’s smile grows fond. “Meaning, ‘under no circumstances’, but often used as an exclamation of disbelief.”

“They were thoroughly impressed with the way you trip, shoot, burn, demolish, hack, freeze, and murder kett,” Jaal then says dryly. “Several of them wished to ask you to enlist with the Resistance. Your most popular move remains, to this day, charging people mid-air and off of cliffs.”

Sara leans her head against his shoulder, squeezing his hand. “Oh man. You do realize that it’s going to get harder and harder to meet up with them every time, right? I might never live up to the expectations. The fighting, the sexy pictures, the _hair_ …”

Jaal’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, squeezing back. “Ah, darling one, it does not matter to them whether you meet their expectations or not. What matters to them is who you are to me.”

He brushes her hair out of the way, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, and she hums in response, snuggling closer. The warmth of his body and the quiet back-and-forth of their conversation combined with the intense emotional rollercoaster from earlier has made Sara drowsy.

Jaal seems to have noticed; he wraps his arms tighter around her, sliding down the pillows. It makes his position shift from an almost entirely upright one to a more lounging one, leaning back. She turns beneath his arms and between his legs, resting her cheek on his chest.

“Stay here tonight,” she murmurs against his shirt. “Sleep with me.”

That’s Jaal’s cue to push the pile of pillows further down, and to settle his back fully against the mattress. He stretches out lazily, almost like a cat, before wrapping his arms back around her again. “I was told this was also an idiom,” he says, yawning, “but I suppose you did not mean it _that_ way in this case.”

She half-laughs against him. “Way too tired for that, big guy.”

SAM dims the lights at that, and Sara arranges the blankets more snugly around them. It’s so easy to slip back down under his arm and over his chest, and enjoy this big, angaran furnace. She tangles her bare legs with his, pressing another kiss to his shoulder.

“Sara,” Jaal then says quietly, but his tone is insistent, “do you think your brother will like me?”

Sara’s eyes fly open immediately.

Scott.

She suddenly sees him vividly before her mind’s eye, before they left for Andromeda – her little brother, eyes shining with adventure, his hand clasped on her shoulder, mouth open in a wide smile. Her _twin_ , the one with the curiosity and the heart longing for the stars, the one who was always able to tackle everything in his path. Where she would deflect and block and throw some sarcasm around, he would be honest and forward.

Always asking the right questions. But they’ve both always been blunt about it, too.

And she imagines what it would look like, him finally waking up from cryo. Mourning their father, mourning the loss of the golden worlds, holding each other’s hands tight and hearts tighter. Him joining her in building everything up from the ground up, focusing on developing research and tech; getting on particularly well with Cora. And he sure as heck would be a better Nomad driver than her.

She also knows that Scott’s heart would _weep_ for her, for the fact that she had to face everything alone without their dad, without _him_. And then he would take one look at the alien standing at her side, hands curled around hers, and stride up to him and shake his hand, too. Thank him for being there for his sister, when he couldn’t.

_Sis…?_

“Yes,” she says resolutely, closing her eyes and inhaling Jaal’s scent deeply. “Scott will _love_ you.”

Jaal smiles. “Good,” he says, sounding pleased.

They drift off together into a slumber, touching wherever they can, breaths winding down to a gradual, steady rhythm. Sara wakes up quite a number of times during the night, but it’s never long nor disruptive – she’s just not used to sharing her bed again with someone. She used to when she was younger, with Scott, but she’s had no one beside her for _years_. And Jaal is – well, _Jaal_ , so when he turns over the entire bed moves, and sometimes an arm or a leg slings haphazardly her way.

But it feels like home; every single time she wakes up, she ends up with a dopey smile on her face and simply cuddles closer to whatever body part is now in the near vicinity. She hasn’t had this kind of easiness, of comfort, since forever, and sometimes when you’re saving a galaxy all you really need is a person to fall asleep next to.

Half-way through the night, Jaal appears to have discarded his shirt, and Sara just spends a lazy minute counting all the little flecks on his shoulders and back, drawing constellations between them, until sleep claims her again.

When it gets closer to the morning, though, it _does_ gets disruptive – Sara wakes up with her face planted in Jaal’s armpit and he’s snoring like there’s no tomorrow. And it’s not like light, human snoring either, oh no. Full-blown angaran snoring, with its unfamiliar deep staccato bursts, and it’s ridiculously loud. She supposes this is what happens if your nose is so uncommonly flat.

She kicks him softly under the covers first, but nothing changes. Then, she tickles the armpit she’s lying in, but he doesn’t dignify her with a response, either. She tries running her fingers over the soft grooves positioned over the length of his head and neck, but he just sleepily turns his head away, and the snores only stop for the briefest of moments.

“Jaal,” Sara grumbles, voice still layered with sleep, “stop snoring. _Please_.”

He shifts lightly onto his back, but the snoring somehow seems to get worse.

“Jaal,” she hisses, poking her toes into his leg, “come on, stop it!”

That seems to do it – a grumpy noise interrupts the snoring and then it stops entirely as he turns towards her, slipping onto his stomach. His eyes open, sleepy and blinking, and he still looks a little confused. When their eyes meet, however, his expression grows soft and he eagerly stretches his arm out, fingers brushing her cheek.

“Sara,” he murmurs, voice still gravely. “Was I…”

That makes Sara smile, too. “Snoring loud enough to wake up titans and gods? Yes. I think the Archon heard you all the way to where that stupid fucker is hiding.”

He grins widely, teeth showing. “Good. Consider him warned.”

He flexes his arms, forehead still pressed to the pillow, and his grin morphs into a yawn.

She runs her fingers over the arm closest to her. “It’s still kinda early, but I wanted to take a shower. Do you want to join me?”

His gaze gets a bit more focus. “Your bed is quite comfortable, darling.”

Sara grins, rolling away from him and pushing the blankets away, sitting up. The floor is cold against her feet, shocking her fully awake. “Your loss. Showers are pretty empty at this hour, usually.”

Jaal pillows his head on his arms, watching her as she grabs a towel from the wardrobe. “I have not lost _anything_ ,” he says, sounding way too sure of himself.

“Oh?” Sara says, raising an eyebrow, and takes off her tank top in one fell swoop, hurling it back to the bed. His eyes grow more intense as she does it, large and unblinking, following her every move. They slide down at the same time her hands do, gaze dropping from her breasts to her hips, where she hooks her thumbs into the fabric of her panties.

When she steps out of them, he drops his face back into his arms, sighing. “Fine, Sara. You have made your point quite clear. I will join you.”

She grins and blows him a kiss, rummaging through her things until she fishes out her white, fluffy bathrobe with the Initiative patch on the sleeve. Sometimes being a Pathfinder does have its perks. Jaal sleepily rubs at his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed, and gets up with another yawn and stretch.

He catches her in his arms while she’s donning the bathrobe, lips against her temple.

“SAM,” Sara says, smiling and turning in Jaal’s arms, “is there anyone in the bathroom?”

“Negative,” SAM answers. “My scans indicate that all crew members are either already at work, or asleep.” A suspicious pause. “I estimate that the first shower rush will not be for at least an hour.”

Jaal looks impressed. “How thoughtful of you, SAM,” he smiles, stealing another kiss from Sara.

“Thank you,” SAM says pointedly. “Might I also remind you, Sara, that no one on the Tempest has the authority to override any locking commands you might place upon the doors?”

That makes her laugh. “Thanks for the refresher. We’ll be okay.”

She takes Jaal’s hands and it’s a quick trip from her quarters into the Tempest’s bathroom, which she’s always considered quite small for a crew this size. The showers themselves, especially, are a bit cramped and there’s only one toilet – but all of that is the least of her worries today, now she has Jaal with her like this.

He smiles knowingly, divesting himself of the rest of his clothes – walks past her naked as the day he was born. “I’ll get the water running,” he murmurs, fingers catching hers briefly before he disappears into the showers.

Shucking her bathrobe and throwing it over the nearby towel rack, Sara stops briefly to check her reflection in the mirror. The blotchiness on her cheeks from yesterday is gone, but the dark circles are still there – just not as prominently. One relatively normal night of sleep won’t fix a thing like this, but at least she looks like a somewhat healthy human being again.

She quickly runs a brush through her hair, untangling some of the knots, and then turns back to the stalls. Steam is already rising, the steady pitter-patter of water on the tiles a calming white noise, and she hears Jaal sigh in contentment.

The idea of all that pink-white skin and muscle on display right around the corner, droplets of water sliding over the dips and curves of his body, is already enough to make Sara’s cheeks heat up. But then she hesitates, remembering something pretty vital about angara, and one vehement conversation she had with her mother when she was little about not dropping her commpad into the bath.

“SAM,” she whispers, “bioelectricity and water. Is that a thing we need to watch out for?”

“Likely not,” SAM says on their private channel. “The naturally occurring voltage beneath Jaal’s skin appears to be too low to do any severe damage, regardless of the presence of water. It also seems to be calibrated to be conducted harmlessly by living matter, if used as a social cue. At worst, it will produce a slightly more intense shock.”

Sara feels relieved, the anticipation in her lower belly slowly returning.

“Or perhaps I should say,” SAM says then, almost musing, “ _at best_.”

It makes her wish more than ever that SAM had a physical body just so she could throttle it whenever he pulls stuff like this, but she settles for gritting her teeth and muttering: “Just lock the doors, okay?”

SAM wisely complies and says nothing else. She’s not quite sure if the silence makes him seem more pleased with himself or not, at this point, but sharing a pleasant shower with Jaal is the more pressing issue. So she slips around the wall, stepping into the showers, feet warming up on the tiles.

Jaal opens his eyes when she steps in, smile small and private. “Darling one,” he says in greeting.

Sara is at a loss of words for a moment.

He barely fits underneath the showerhead; arms stretched back over his head, massaging his own shoulders, chin tilted up just a tiny bit. It makes all his muscles stand out more prominently, arms and chest a mighty bulwark, and the sheen of the water seems to make his skin shine iridescently in certain spots. The pink is stronger, more intense; probably because of the heat of the water, and his blue eyes provide a nice, glimmering contrast.

They follow her as she swallows, steadying herself, and she looks lower.

The droplets and streams of water converge over his abdomen and narrow hips, forming trails that Sara wouldn’t mind following with her tongue. A muscle in his thigh flexes and twitches as she runs her gaze over him, back up slightly to his crotch. It seems she was right – there’s a couple of delicious looking grooves running down from low on his belly towards the center of his crotch, the flesh curling here and there into darker pink folds that look a little puffy. All of them curve inward slightly towards a central point.

She meets his gaze head-on, smirking. “I didn’t know the showers came with such a great view.”

He simply stretches his hand out in an invitation, drawing her under the spray of the showerhead, and his smile grows bigger. “Only for the Pathfinder, I am told,” he grins, holding her against him.

“Jaal,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck, “do you want to…?”

“Yes,” he answers almost before her sentence has even tapered off into nothingness, and then he’s cupping her face and kissing her with a fierce intensity. His tongue slides in slow and deep, blunt teeth over her lower lip, and as she runs her fingers over his sides she can already feel the electricity hum beneath his skin.

Fingers sliding into her hair, he abruptly breaks the kiss, looking surprised. “Sara,” he says, eyes blinking, “your _hair_.”

That makes her laugh, and she reaches out to hold up a wet strand of hair. “Ha-ha, yeah,” she grins, “forgot to tell you that. You’ve seen it damp with rain and sweat, but this is what it looks like when it gets wet all the way through. Just sticks to everything.”

He cards through it with his fingers and thumb. “And it gets heavier,” he murmurs. “Miraculous.” His expression turns playful again. “Down there, too?”

Sara puts on an innocent air, head canted to the side. “I _really_ wouldn’t know. Why don’t you find out yourself?”

Jaal smiles. “I will, sweetheart,” he says softly, leaning back in to recapture her mouth with his. His thumb brushes over the edge of her jaw as she gets closer to him, and his other hand slides down, following the curve of her spine. He splays it over the small of her back, pushing her hips closer to his. Sara feels that distinctive pattern of raised skin around his crotch area brush up against her belly.

Drawing her mouth down from his, she pats his chest. “Rub my knees again later?” she asks with a wink, and then sinks down onto the tiles without much ceremony.

Jaal makes a sound as if the breath just got knocked out of him, but still has enough sense to turn the shower head just slightly so that the water doesn’t splash straight into Sara’s face. She places her hands over his hipbones, noticing the slightly unstable tremble in them, and then examines the area between his legs more closely.

“I’ve been wondering,” she whispers over the folds, deliberately letting her breath fan out, “what you’d look like down here if you weren’t already…” She pauses, tracing one of the larger grooves with a finger. “… worked up for me, darling.”

He makes a pained noise, one hand coming up to his mouth. “Sara, is it – am I also pleasing to you like this?”

She leans in closer, running her tongue through the purple inside of one of the curved folds, smiling. “Of course,” she murmurs, lips grazing over his skin while she speaks. “It’s like unwrapping a present.”

“I assume,” Jaal says, voice hinging on a moan, “that’s a good thing, sweetheart.”

Sara looks up, watching the pleasure he’s feeling play openly over his face. She rubs her thumb gently over the other curved groove at the right side of his crotch, a spike of lust shooting through her as Jaal closes his eyes, his hips desperately trying to follow the path of her mouth and fingers.

“Good?” she asks, gently massaging at the delicate flesh.

“Stars,” Jaal murmurs around his fist, “ _yes_ , Sara.” His accent has grown heavier, making him roll the R in her name enticingly.

She’s starting to get him figured out – there’s three main creases running down from his lower abdomen; two off to the sides, curving, and one down the center. The one in the center seems more shallow than the others and also shorter; the other two deeper, to the point where she can almost dip her finger in up to the first knuckle. There’s a complicated network of whorls and folds in-between it all, but those three grooves seem to lead to a center inclination, already swollen and heavy against Sara’s tongue.

She focuses on that area, kissing it with an open mouth and running her fingers over the parts of flesh that seem to stand out. Slips her tongue in where she can, curling against him, using one hand on his hip to steady herself on her knees.

And then Jaal is sighing deep, pelvis canting just a bit towards her, and his cock starts sliding out.

One of his hands slides down to her head almost instantly, fingers having trouble finding purchase in her wet hair. It makes Sara smile and she keeps pressing kisses against his skin, her tongue flicking over the round tip of him. Her thumb is still drawing circles in that large groove on the right, and she feels his bioelectricity almost stutter against it – he groans, obviously holding himself back.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” she mutters, sucking at his hip.

Jaal finds one of her hands with his and tugs gently. “Come back up here, darling,” he whispers, and Sara looks up at him – he’s a _vision_ , water spray fanning out over him, blue eyes luminous and skin a gleaming pink.

He turns them after she’s gotten up, letting her stand into the warmth of the water for a little while, fingers smoothing over her back and sides. Then, gaze intense and focused, he leans in, fingers sliding below her jaw and over her throat to tilt her head at an angle.

It makes her feel vulnerable, exposed, even though she’s already naked, and Jaal leans in to nibble at the skin of her neck and throat with his lips and teeth. His tongue laps at the water, following it down the dip at the base of her throat and over her clavicle, all the way towards her sternum.

There, he looks up to her, and the smile on his face is more than a little predatory. He glides his hands over her breasts, fingers hovering over her nipples – and there’s that familiar spark again, shooting from the pads of his fingers straight into her, and he’s not even _touching_ her properly.

She moans, arching towards him, mumbling a few curses along the way. He bends himself over her, hands moving underneath her breasts to cup them in his palms, pressing them upward slightly – and then he let his mouth sweep over a nipple greedily. The scorching heat of his tongue and lips lights up more fire in her than the warm spray of the shower does, especially as he twirls his raspy tongue around the little bud, and Sara can’t help but to try and steady herself by gripping onto his broad shoulders. She runs her nails over the back of his head, and one of Jaal’s arms slides back around her waist to pull her towards him more strongly.

His kisses turn more forceful, nipping with that lovely hint of sharpness of his teeth and the zap of sparks flying from his lips over her breasts, and the tang of it shoots straight down to her core. She rubs her thighs together impatiently, knees already getting weak, her mouth open in half a gasp.

“Such a sight you are, Sara,” Jaal says, voice low, one of his hands sliding down over her stomach, and then he’s gently pushing her legs further apart by nudging his thigh between them.

She grinds down, seeking friction, and his arm slides up higher against the small of her back for support. It makes her stumble forward, higher up his thigh, and she makes a little noise of pleasure that’s dangerously close to a whine.

They kiss again under the warm water, mouths sliding against each other easily, and she senses an urgency in Jaal that she hasn’t really experienced before – the way his tongue moves almost impatiently past her teeth, the way his arm insistently presses against her back, and the hand that’s sliding lower and lower while his thigh pushes up higher against her.

Their eyes meet the moment his thumb finds her clit, the water streaming over her making the pad of his thumb drag and catch over it. Sara cries out, head lolling back a bit, but Jaal keeps holding on – crowds her, even, the thigh between her legs almost pushing her up on the balls of her feet, and the arm around her back sliding even higher.

His hand spreads out over her spine, resting between her shoulders, and keeping her away from the cold tiled walls. His mouth finds her throat again and he _sucks_ at the side of this time, marking her skin and soothing over it with his tongue. Between his leg pressed so snugly up to her and his thumb moving firmly over her clit, pushing the hood back with every pass of his fingers, Sara feels almost overwhelmed by the sensations.

“Jaal, _please_ ,” she begs, her own legs trembling over his.

He slows his ministrations, kissing his way back up to her mouth – and he _does_ look like he wants to devour her. She could drown in him with the way he’s looking at her, severe and powerful in so many ways, his eyes raking over the shape of her lips and how his thigh disappears between her legs.

His hand leaves her clit and now she does whine in frustration, but he slides it up to cup her cheek instead, index finger drifting over her lips. And then, after another heated kiss against her mouth, he steps away from her body, all that warmth and strength leaving her in an instant. She balances back fully on her feet, blinking at him in surprise.

“Where are you going? I thought – ”

And then he _kneels_ in front of her.

It’s enough to make the arousal in Sara’s belly spark into a full-fledged fire, and a set of tiny convulsions run through her at the sight. His legs spread, cock bobbed up against his abdomen, Jaal leans forward and lifts her left foot in both hands, kissing her ankle. Then, a little higher up, mouthing a trail of kisses all the way up to her knee, where he circles his fingers over the sensitive underside.

His fingers slide under her thigh and slowly but surely lifts her leg, draping it over his shoulder. The look he gives her from there, biting gently at the inside of her thigh, makes Sara squirm.

“Are you going to,” she stammers, “are you really – ”

He half-sighs, half-moans into her in response, breath caressing her clit. His mouth is _so_ close, and Sara’s already shaking on her legs; he slides one hand over her thigh, encouraging her to let her rest her weight on his shoulder as much as she can.

“Sara,” he says then, looking up, blue eyes glinting, “I am going to lick you until you can no longer stand.”

A lazy kiss to her folds, and Sara clasps both hands over her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise.

“Fuck you open over my fingers,” Jaal continues, fingers spreading her open to his gaze and mouth, “until you are ready for something with a bit more… _weight_.”

He laps at her, his tongue dipping into her entrance, his nose sliding against her clit. Sara chokes out a moan when he replaces his tongue with a thick finger, teasing and circling before sliding in until the second knuckle. He pumps it a few times, letting her stretch and accommodate him, and sucks on her clit when he presses it a little deeper.

“Darling one,” he whispers then, “enjoy yourself.”

Sara cries out, world narrowing down to him and _only_ him, her fingers scrambling for purchase against the back of his head. He’s quick to sink his finger in all the way, his wrist rocking strongly against her as he curves his finger smoothly in and out. His tongue is still flattened exquisitely against her clit, alternating between broad sweeps and tight little flicks with the tip.

Her hips jerk forward when he sucks at her again with a particularly deep stroke of his index finger; and he welcomes them, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses sliding over her cunt, eagerly leaning back against her. His other hand has left her thigh, sliding down to lazily jerk at his cock, and that sends another heavy tremor through Sara, pleasure steadily coiling in her belly.

He twists his finger a bit with the next upstroke into her, obviously searching for her sweet spot – on the second try, when he passes over it and then curls the pad of his finger back into it, Sara nearly _screams_ with bliss, colors bleeding into the edge of her vision. She closes her eyes tight, one hand curling into a fist.

“Ah,” Jaal says, sounding smug, “there it is.”

She groans something unintelligible back, bending forward, both of her hands in fists over his shoulders now. Rather than pumping his finger into her, Jaal settles on a steady kind of rocking; his finger a constant pressure against that sensitive spot inside. Sara can barely hold herself up, fingernails digging into her palms as she feels the edge of his teeth linger over her clit.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she moans, trying to keep her voice somewhat low, mindful of their surroundings.

She feels him smile against her, mouth sliding away to kiss the inside of her thigh. He turns his hand slowly, mindful of the finger within, and replaces his tongue on her clit with his thumb. Her folds feel swollen against his hand, a wayward clench and release around his finger from time to time – Sara’s getting closer.

He nips at her next, a sharp contrast to the steady motions of his hand into her, but the sharpness of it doesn’t stop – the spot on her thigh seems to glow, spreading the pulse further in weak bursts towards her center, and then she _knows_.

Leaning back a little on trembling legs, she looks down at him, and their eyes meet. He looks confident and sure, and Sara can scarcely keep her thoughts together, all bewildered anticipation.

He winks.

And then it _zaps_ over her, sparking through her cunt – a live-wire connection between his finger inside of her and his thumb slipping over her folds. She stutters out his name in shock, barely able to form words. It _is_ more intense than usual, energy jolting over her skin with an almost restless vivacity, goosebumps rising in its wake.

She almost bends over double, legs twitching, but the charge of his electricity doesn’t stop – she feels the pulses of it _widen_ , rippling over her lower body. It’s close to being overstimulated, but without the underlying satisfaction of an orgasm. Like constantly being on the brink of something and _wanting_ to leap off it, but not being able to just yet.

“Jaal, _gods_ , please, I’m – I’m going to fall over,” she sobs, squeezing at his shoulders. “I can’t stand like this, you’re too good, I can’t – ”

He slides his finger out of her with a wet pop underneath the stream of the water, and she whines at the sudden emptiness. The pulses die down a little bit, too, but their echo still seems to linger in her body, and Sara feels herself twitch at the lazy laps of energy throughout her.

Jaal shifts from a kneeling position to balancing on the balls of his feet; it puts him up higher in front of her, taking the leg still over his shoulder with it and pushing Sara off balance. She wobbles briefly, trying to steady herself, and then his arms both slide around the small of her back.

“Sara,” he says against her belly, “hold on tight.”

One of his arms snakes under her ass, pushing her up and forward against him; then, he guides her other leg over his shoulder as well. The arm around her waist grows tighter, his hand spreading over her back somewhere between her hip and shoulder. Sara stares at him, eyes wide – she’s not leaning against the wall, she’s not leaning against _anything_ except the embrace of his body, her own legs locked together over his shoulders.

He’s holding her up just with his arms.

“Holy _shit_ ,” she stares, mouth open in shock.

Jaal smiles, and that image sends another sharp jab of pleasure straight down her body; his lips curved into a playful smile with his face between her thighs, arms solid vices around her. Then, he steadies himself, the center of his gravity shifting, shoulders bracing below her –

And he stands up, rising to his full height.

It makes her heart beat faster instantly; the height of it, the display of strength, Jaal’s _utter_ confidence at pulling off such a ridiculous move. Sara nearly scrambles, hands reaching for him, but there’s no risk of falling at all. His feet have a strong grip on the floor, the soles not so easily prone to slipping like those of a human. And his arms are steady around her, unwavering.

There’s a playful twinkle to his eye as he watches her flail around in surprise, and then, without a second thought, he dives back into her. He can only use his mouth like this, but that doesn’t curb his enthusiasm nor does it slow the desperate ease of Sara’s hips towards his clever tongue.

The hum of electricity returns instantly, sparking between his fingers splayed over her body, holding her against his mouth. His lips close around her clit again, sucking at her with vigor, and then the sharp buzz of the current under his skin tickles over his mouth back into her.

“I can’t believe this,” she moans at him, eyes closing, “ _fuck_ , I can’t believe – ”

The energy tingles over her clit, seemingly sinking deeper under the skin, and all of the sensations are becoming too much – the light spray of water over her leg still, the heat of his mouth and tongue over her, and the way her body seems to buzz and hum with all the energy he’s sending through it. That brink she was reaching for before seems to inch closer and closer, and she squeezes her legs together around his neck.

The rumble he gives in response rolls through her, vibrating against her clit with another fiery pulse. And the coil inside of Sara is starting to unwind against Jaal’s persistent mouth, the rhythm he’s picked up with each flick of his tongue. She circles her hips back against him, her fingers twitching against the side of his head. There’s already a stutter building up in the way she pushes forward, and she’s _almost_ there –

His mouth leaves her.

Sara whines, hips twitching. “ _Jaal_ ,” she breathes, “you can’t be serious.”

“Had I not said,” he says, voice hushed and low, “that I would have you teetering on the edge for me, darling?”

She makes a wounded sound back at him, her legs restless over his shoulders. “Teetering for a while, now,” she says, trying not to sound too indignant. “Would _really_ enjoy getting there sometime soon.”

He steps forward, resting her back gently against the tiled wall – the water has warmed it, but the lower temperature of it compared to the heat of the air and Jaal’s body still sends a shock through Sara. He carefully nudges her legs, letting them slide off his shoulders until they hook around his waist and holds her there, sliding his own arms around her waist, too. Draws her back from the wall until he’s the only one supporting her once more.

Then, he tilts his chin up. “Ask me for it, darling one, and I will give it to you.”

Sara _feels_ the blush creep up her cheeks.

She’s poised right above his cock.

He leans in, stealing a kiss, tongue flicking against her upper lip. “Do you want me, Sara?” he asks, his breath ghosting over her mouth. “You’re trembling, sweetheart.”

She’s so aroused she can’t see straight; bites her lip and squeezes her thighs around him. “You’re teasing me,” she accuses, stealing a kiss of her own.

Jaal smiles boldly. “Yes. I love seeing you come apart for me. Your release tastes sweeter knowing…” – his smile fades and he lets his lips flutter over the shell of her ear – “… that _I_ reduced you to such a wanton state.”

She winds her arms around his neck, meeting his gaze head-on. No more waiting.

“Fuck me,” she almost commands, hips pressing into his belly, “fuck me _hard_ , Jaal.”

His eyes go a little glassy at that, the luminous silver flecks in all the blue somehow glowing brighter, and he nods. Slowly, he lets her slide down his body – she reaches in-between them to spread herself open over him, and the instant his cock touches her there’s already an almost stinging zap jumping from his body to hers.

They both moan at the feel of it and he angles his hips further up, tip sliding in.

“As you wish,” he groans, letting her body settle fully at his waist, “darling.”

She nudges her pelvis back against him, the slow drag of his cock enflaming her nerves. It already feels so natural to sink down on him, and she quivers a bit at how far he stretches her open; the rich way in which he fills her up. He lets her take him in a little further until her clit is touching the folds at the base of his cock, and she sighs in pleasure, head tipping to the side.

He leans his forehead against hers. “Yes?”

She nods, breathless. “Fuck, yeah.”

He tests the push of him against her a couple of times, pelvis eddying back-and-forth; then, he braces one arm on the wall behind her, the other still around her waist. The gaze he throws her way is intense enough to _burn_ through her, eyes focused completely on hers while he shifts his hips again, trying to find the best angle.

He pivots his hips up and forward on the next upstroke and Sara _moans_ , throwing her head back; he does it again, eliciting the same response, her body humming with nervous energy.

“Sara,” he sighs, “your body is a _delight_.”

He draws his hips back almost all the way and then _snaps_ them back into her, sliding in all the way to the hilt; she sobs as his cock slides past her sweet spot, and his fingers tighten on her waist in response.

“You stretch so easily around my cock,” he continues, merciless, “accommodating it, _welcoming_ it into you. Almost…”

He grits his teeth, slowly finding a rhythm, the speed of his thrusts increasing; Sara crosses her ankles behind his back, one of her heels digging into his ass to spur him on. She’s still so wound up from earlier that she can barely move, so she settles for running her fingers over the soft, purple spots tucked away in the curves of his head.

“ _Ah_ ,” Jaal groans, slamming home particularly deep, “… almost as if your cunt was made to take me, darling.”

She reaches wildly for his jaw, pushing his face forward towards hers, crushing his mouth in a bruising kiss – she’s _desperate_ , she wants it so fucking bad, and has no words to beg with anymore. She tugs at his bottom lip with her teeth, clenching down hard on him.

“Come on,” she whispers, “come _on_ , just take me, I won’t break, I want – ”

The next deep slide of his cock is followed so quickly by another one that it makes Sara lose her breath, her body quaking as he pushes back in again. The rhythm of his thrusts is steady but _punishing_ with how fast and thorough he is – making her pleasure crest every time he slams into her.

And there it is again, the sharp pulse of him, skidding through and over her core – a burst of energy at each thrust shooting up her belly, teasing at her clit and sparking liquid fire in her veins. The static of it is crackling over her skin, and she can see the slight glow of his skin where he’s still pushing into her.

He braces himself more sturdily against the floor and wall, his arm straining with the effort. Sara whimpers in his arms, because this, _this_ is fucking – an all-encompassing, accelerating rush, the wet slap of their bodies echoing off the tiles.

“You’re so good,” she gasps, face close to his, “you’re so _fucking_ good at this, darling.”

He grunts, licking at her mouth; hips drawing a circle against hers, the ridges of his cock send little spikes of pleasure along her inner walls. And then he jabs back and forward again, returning to an almost relentless rhythm that has her shaking and begging within mere seconds.

“Sara,” he says, voice broken, “I will not last for much longer. I’m not – take… take what you _need_ , sweetheart.”

He’s _pounding_ into her now, arm tight around her lower back, face buried in her shoulder. His cock throbs, the waves of energy it is sending off into her unending – each of those waves surpasses the next, resonating so profoundly deep inside of her that Sara almost tastes the charge of it under her tongue.

She feels weightless against him, drawn in by the magnetism of his blue eyes; mesmerizing nebulae against the starry scenery of dark space. Orbiting around him like a shooting star, losing parts of herself in the process of drawing closer to him, yet hurling closer to his center nonetheless – he’s her home, her grounding force in the uprooted landscape of her mind, the gravity that will always pull her back to where she belongs.

It’s all or nothing now, like an action-potential coming to life.

Jaal shatters inside of her with a cry of her name; electricity cresting and _sparking_ , and Sara falls just after.

Her own cry is wordless as her orgasm overtakes her – a wave starting high in her belly, spreading and flooding over her, and like an unstoppable current it almost _crashes_ into her core. She comes down hard on the glow and electric pulse of Jaal inside her, wringing even more pleasure from him; he lets out a sob against her throat, hips still pushing between her thighs, letting her ride him just a bit longer.

Sara feels needy, _greedy_ as she runs her hands over his face, kissing him sloppily; like she’s not _done_ yet, like there’s more –

Jaal leans back, wrapping the arm he used to brace himself with against the wall around her waist alongside the other. It leaves both his hands pressed over her belly with how wide his arms are, and she can already tell by the hum underneath the skin of his arms what he’s planning to do.

“Oh yes,” she says, “oh gods _please,_ give me another one – ”

She cries out when he releases all of that energy at once, straight into her lower abdomen as she comes around him a second time – less drawn out, less slow, and more like a sudden thing slamming into her. His cock is still firm inside of her, and she wraps herself around that full feeling, milking him for all she’s worth; forehead pressed to hers, thighs trembling.

 _Yes_ , she thinks, _fuck yes, this is what I needed._

He lets her down slow once she’s done, a somewhat sappy smile on his face.

“Well,” he says, “I think I quite enjoyed that, Sara.”

It makes Sara laugh; she leans back against the wall, turning the shower head so it sprays them both fully again. “And a good morning to you too, Mr. Ama Darav,” she teases, still a bit out of breath.

He kisses her forehead. “The best, Pathfinder Ryder.”

She nuzzles her face against his, feeling his arms tremble at his sides. “That was some pretty extraordinary lifting you did there,” she says, genuinely impressed. “I had no idea that you could… do all that and…” She gestures towards herself and then back to him.

He laughs. “Fuck you while holding you up in the air? One of the upsides of you being a rather delicate alien, darling.” He flexes his arms, wincing. “Though my aim will be off for days, I’m afraid.”

“Aww,” she says, cupping his cheek, “come on, I’ll take care of you.”

They end up enjoying the shower for a little while longer – Sara draws in a metal stool from under the sink after her legs have become a little less wobbly, plonking Jaal down on it right under the stream and letting him enjoy the hot water. She washes his back thoroughly, massaging the corded muscle in his shoulders and arms, trying to ease some of the tension in them – and she swears he purrs a little under the ministrations, at times turning his head to steal a kiss.

It’s a sweet, quiet moment, and she wants to enjoy it as much as she can. She didn’t die almost twice to live a grumpy, dark and depressing life.

Eventually, she ends up in his lap with him shampooing up her hair, completely fascinated with the process. Once she’s washed it out, the kiss that follows is longer, more profound, the air growing heavier between them. He runs his fingers over her thighs, expression reverent; she runs hers over his neck in turn.

But then the door chimes, and SAM’s voice cuts through the silence.

“Sara, Jaal,” he says, “Drack is standing in front of the bathroom. I believe he wishes to make use of it.”

She groans, letting her forehead fall against Jaal’s chest. Nothing better to get your thoughts off of sex than your krogan space grandpa attempting to get into the bathroom.

“Kid, I know you’re in there with your boyfriend. Bath time is over!”

Case in point.

Jaal’s shoulders shake with laughter, and he kisses her palm. “Tonight,” he promises.

“Every night,” she promises in turn, her other hand over his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> \- So uh, this was an attempt to reconcile romanticwaterfall!Jaal with phonesex!Jaal  
> \- And to focus more on those ridiculous arms & muscles because DAMN he's... definitely... thick  
> \- (I'm sorry I've just been staring at a lot of screenshots and his biceps are like Ryder's waist man wtf)  
> \- and I sure hope that the ceiling of the bathroom isn't too low!  
> \- Don't bring your electrical appliances with you while bathing/showering, folks  
> \- And don't just eat a pussy while you can, no -- DEVOUR it while you're at it  
> \- I'm sorry this got so sappy & fluffy btw  
> \- Liam taught Jaal the meaning of winking, because he's like the ultimate... winKman  
> \- Also, I finished this when I was super tired, so apologies if there's any typos left  
> \- Come yell at me on Tumblr about Mass effect [here](http://octobig.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> **Had a good time reading this? Please consider leaving kudos! Means a lot to me ♥**


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